


Here

by kla1991



Series: The Farmhouse Series [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 00:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13306197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kla1991/pseuds/kla1991
Summary: A follow-up to my Bering and Wells Gift Exchange 2016 piece, which is now part 1 of The Farmhouse Series. It's a very smutty follow-up, but there's feelings as well.





	Here

**Author's Note:**

> Because canon is wildly inconsistent, I chose to go with what was said/implied originally about the incident when Sam died, including that Myka was injured.

            Myka was here.

            Myka was lying with her feet on the couch and her head in Helena’s lap, saying, “I like how you play with my hair. Most people try to run their fingers through it and get confused with all the curls and tangles. What you’re doing is perfect.”

            Helena smiled. Snow was still falling outside her old farmhouse, and the Chopin CD was still playing. Her head was still spinning from the long moments they’d spend standing in the middle of her living room, here, kissing each other like it was a religious experience.

            “The fire’s getting low,” Helena said.

            “Is it?” Myka replied, catching Helena’s hand and pressing her lips to the soft skin of Helena’s wrist.

            There’d been a great deal of talk after their great deal of kissing, about the past, about the future, about how much they’d both longed for the present moment they found themselves in. Helena had seen love and earnestness in Myka’s eyes, which filled her heart to bursting. Now she saw desire, and her chest swelled with it in kind. She pushed Myka up gently.

            “Dirty mind,” she said as she stood up to stir the embers of the fire.

            The snap and rustle of them covered the sounds of Myka rising and standing beside her. She interlaced their fingers, but she didn’t look up from the fireplace.

            “What are you thinking about?” Myka asked.

            Helena knew the insistence with which Myka could pursue a question, so she didn’t try to evade.

            “Old flames,” she said. “And old mistakes. I don’t want to make them with you.”

            “And you think getting too physical too fast is a mistake?”

            Helena took a deep breath, filled with the comforting smells of the Christmas tree and the fireplace smoke. “I think doing what I’ve always done before is a mistake.”

            Myka held in a laugh, and Helena felt the shaking of her shoulders. “I can’t even begin to compare this to anything I’ve done before. But we’ll do it together, right? We’ll puzzle it out, Wells and Bering.”

            Helena turned her head, slowly, as if she were afraid of shaking off the revelation she’d just had. A few weeks ago, when winter had suddenly descended, she had heard a crack deep in the woods like lightening and gunfire—and when she looked up from the car she’d automatically taken cover from, the top half of one of the pines in her yard was scattered all over the frozen ground in splinters. When the temperature changes suddenly, the internet had explained to her, the liquids inside a tree could expand so quickly that the tree might explode.

            What Myka said changed Helena’s perspective so rapidly that she thought she might meet the same fate as that tree. They would do this together. Somehow she’d never looked at it that way, and her fears burst into ribbons in the face of the idea.

            “I thought it was Bering and Wells,” she said. No other words came to mind. Who needed them, when she could hold her beloved by the hips and kiss her, on her mouth and cheek and chin and jaw, fire-warmed skin under urgent lips?

            “Helena, where…” Myka panted, while Helena kissed behind her ear, “Where are you going with this?”

            “To bed, if you’re willing,” Helena whispered.

            “I thought you didn’t want to?”

            When Helena chuckled, Myka gulped. “I very much want to, my love. I was afraid, but you reminded me that you’re here, and so there is nothing to be afraid of.”

            Myka kissed her then, hard, and it was the beginning of a slow and clumsy journey upstairs. At one point Helena, who was walking backward, tripped on a step, and instead of getting up they sat where they’d fallen, because Myka pulled Helena’s sweater off and started kissing the skin that Helena’s shirt exposed. Nearly face-planting in cleavage, she explained, was as good an excuse to touch it as any.

            “The stair in my spine is starting to outweigh my enjoyment,” Helena said eventually.

            She pushed herself back to her feet and pulled Myka with her. They only made a few more stops before they finally reached Helena’s bedroom door. She had a plan to make the trip from doorway to bed seductive, romantic, but Myka surpassed it. She lifted Helena off her feet, and Helena’s legs wrapped automatically around Myka’s waist. Myka’s muscles trembled as she approached the bed, but her grip was sure, and she had enough strength to make it across the room.

            Helena felt giddy, almost silly, being carried this way. It was an unexpected delight, and she giggled like a fool as she kissed the side of Myka’s face. The spread of her legs drew her attention specifically between them, where pressure, touch, became a very immediate need. She didn’t try to press herself closer to Myka’s body, not wanting to strain the woman’s muscles further, but the effort made her tense.

            Myka put one knee on the mattress before laying Helena down, and Helena let herself splay out, looking up at Myka like the world began and ended with her. They paused a moment together.

            Everything outside was muffled with snow. Inside, there was a distant clank of the radiator, the ticking of Helena’s analog clock on the bedside table, and the seconds and sounds passed by unnoticed. A gust of wind threw a volley of snowflakes against the window, and it seemed to sweep Helena with it, upward toward Myka. One slow kiss, and they were in motion again.

            Helena had expected Myka to follow her onto the bed, but instead she undid the fastenings of Helena’s jeans and dragged them off, kneeling on the floor as she followed them down. She took off Helena’s socks, too, then kissed the top of Helena’s foot, her ankle, the curve of her calf, all the way up toward the apex of her thighs. The muscles of Helena’s core clenched, expecting contact, but Myka passed over it, pressing her lips instead to Helena’s abdomen before climbing onto the bed and stretching out beside Helena.

            “So that’s greige,” she said, looking around at the thistle-patterned wallpaper.

            “Is that really what you’re interested in?” Helena asked.

            She slipped her hand under Myka’s sweater and shirt, and she felt the clench of abs when Myka laughed. These clothes had to go.

            Myka’s now uncovered skin broke out in goosebumps as Helena swung her leg over Myka’s hips. When Helena leaned down to kiss her, Myka wrapped her arms around her and clutched her tightly. Helena ran her hand up Myka’s side, and Myka hissed and shivered under her. The look on Myka’s face, though, was sheepish.

            “Don’t think this isn’t also really good,” she said, “but I’m really cold.”

            Helena rolled away laughing, and they pulled the bed sheets down and crawled under them together, which was impossible to do elegantly. The shuffle Helena performed was nothing compared to Myka’s adorable hop to get the sheets out from under her bottom, and the near flailing of long legs as she shuffled her own jeans off. Helena pulled her shirt off while Myka wasn’t looking and relished in the shocked inhale when she turned to see Helena in only her bra. They lunged toward each other like they were drawn by magnets.

            And then Myka pressed her thigh between Helena’s, pressing hard. Helena gasped. Her hips jerked back and forth. At first Myka stayed still, letting Helena do all the work, but she couldn’t hold back for long. Helena started to reciprocate, and they strained against each other for several long minutes. Just when Helena couldn’t stand it anymore, Myka wrestled her hand between them, and Helena followed. The last of their clothing was removed gradually, when the two of them could manage to separate long enough to do so. The full expanse of skin, the wetness soaking naked thighs, the pleasure of hands and mouth on breasts, was glorious.

            Helena’s first touch of Myka’s vulva sent such a rush of sensation through her that it felt almost as if she were the one being touched. She coaxed Myka onto her back, kicked her leg down to break the pressure against her own body—she wanted to focus, and to have full reign to explore.

            “Tell me what it is you like,” Helena whispered, her voice feeling almost too loud in the quiet and darkness.

            Myka nodded, and that was most of her communication. Helena asked questions as she probed, stroking and pressing all over her, slipping her fingers inside when Myka moaned at the suggestion. Pressure at the top of her vagina brought out harsh cries, which Myka assured her were good. Gentle, shallow thrusts were also successful, though less intense. They went slowly together, stretching out the exploration and the joy of their first love-making. When Myka came, it was in near silence, her breath stopping and her spine bowing as the orgasm reached its peak.

            “Dear god, you’re wonderful,” Helena said while Myka lay under her, catching her breath.

            Myka hummed and pulled her close again. Helena ran a soothing hand down her side, then settled on her hip. Her thumb stroked a small line of raised skin. It was the unmistakable hardness of scar tissue, curving across Myka’s side just above her hipbone.

            Intending not to draw attention to the injury, Helena moved her hand away, but Myka had noticed the touch already.

            “I’m lucky it was that low, or I never would have gotten away with wearing that killer dress at Fashion Week.”

            _You’re lucky bullet didn’t meet bone,_ Helena didn’t say. Myka knew that.

            “No one’s ever…” Myka started, then tried again. “You’re the first person who’s seen it. I had a hard time imagining that ever being okay, letting someone see it, touch it, especially when Sam had just… But it does feel okay. I’m glad you know about it. I like that you know everything about me, even things I’ve hid from other people.”

            Helena hugged Myka, kissed her cheek, and let her thumb return to stroking the scar.

            “I feel the same way,” she said.

            The fire between them built up quickly after Myka kissed Helena again, and it burned for hours more. They stumbled downstairs, exhausted, when Myka insisted on having a snack, and then they settled back into the bed to sleep, huddled close together.

            In the morning, the sunlight beamed through Helena’s frosty bedroom window onto a miracle, which Helena wondered at again and again: Myka was here, and she was here to stay.


End file.
